Heading for the hills...

I've been in Pokhara, Nepal, for the last four days, getting a really good fix of the internet, good food and good company. Sure, people will complain that Pokhara is too touristy these days, but I was definitely ready for a shower and a steak..

After Kathmandu, I headed east with the Germans. They were committed to reaching a hill town called Taplejung - I'm still not sure how this plan originated, but I was happy to travel with them on their odyssey for a few days.

We hacked our way out of Kathmandu along some horrific roads that were little more than a series of potholes (henceforth referred to as NRBs, or Nepalese Rim Benders), joined together by a small amount of tarmac. The first rule of Nepalese roads is: largest vehicle has right of way. The second rule of Nepalese roads is: LARGEST VEHICLE has right of way. The third rule is: liberal honking of horn is encouraged, but it won't really make a difference.

The worst thing about the road is the buses and trucks. They are painted in garish colours. They have ear piercing, multi-tone airhorns that are used every few seconds. They give way for nobody. And they belch dense black smoke, which is stings your eyes, coats your skin and clothes, and the effect it has on your lungs does not bear thinking about. And you have to overtake one every 30 seconds or so. While avoiding NRBs.

We made it out of Kathmandu, and after Dhulikhel we enjoyed about 20km of smooth, quality tarmac that meandered across a range of hills with plenty of blind corners. Unfortunately it was only 1.5 lanes wide, which is fine for a motorbike and a truck to pass, but doesn't leave much margin for error.

Further on, the road followed the Sun Kosi river along a deep valley. First the tarmac gave way to hard dirt, then sand... quite a surprise since this was marked on the map as a major highway, but we still had a lot to learn about Nepalese roads...



Every few kilometres the valley narrowed and the track snaked its way up hundreds of feet in a series of switchbacks, and then descended just as quickly again.

This bit's a little steep...

The track ran along ledges with sheer drop-offs for hundreds of metres, which certainly focused the mind on keeping the bike upright. This was tough riding, and there were a few fallers...

Oops, I did it again...

At one stage, we found a pedestrian footbridge across the Sun Kosi that was a couple of hundred metres long. No sooner had I mentioned that it would be amusing to ride over the bridge, Rainer was half way across, the the great amusement of the local kids. It wasn't until he was at the other side that he found the flaw in his plan - there was a set of steps, and the bridge was too narrow for him to turn around. 15 seconds to cross going forwards, 15 minutes in reverse...

Rainer, GET DOWN from there...

By 5:30pm, we were still at least an hour's ride from Bimeswar and it was starting to get dark. We bought some instant noodles and bottled water in a small village, and soon found a large grassy floodplain - a perfect spot to camp. As if by magic, a dozen or so local kids appeared, so we circled the wagons and issued stern rebukes to anyone who entered the compound. We were soon tucking into noodles and Marian's delicious homemade pesto, followed by a cheeky schnapps (I was doing my best to lighten the German's luggage by consuming all their provisions...).

The perfect campground?

Next day it wasn't long before we were back on tarmac again, and what a piece of tarmac! For sheer twistiness, this surpassed anything I'd seen in Thailand!

Doesn't get much better than this...

Another one for the bikers

We pressed on, and decided to spend the night in Janakpur, which turned out to be a bit of a dive. We checked in at the Rama Hotel, which was pretty unfriendly, but the Chief of Police was staying there with his retinue, so at least the bikes were safe.

A quick survey of the damage from the previous day's ride showed that the Transalp fared significantly better than the Africa Twins, which suffered a ruptured rear brake pipe, some sheared bolts, and a few missing mirrors. Hopefully it's just teething troubles for my travelling companions, but it makes me realise that I've been extremely lucky to have had no mechanical issues so far, in spite of some spirited riding and a few spills. A local mechanic was found, and it turned out that the brake pipe from Hero Honda fits the Africa Twin just fine, as do the mirrors...

Back on the road, we had an uneventful ride along the Mahendra Highway except for a few public protests, and we stayed at the Kamakshya Hotel in Damak, where Mohan provided claen rooms, great food, and secure parking for the bikes.

Bad day at the office? Burn a tyre...

Having travelled east almost to the Indian border along the Nepali plains, we turned north at Charali. The road rose steeply to almost 2,500m, and I needed my jacket for the first time in 3 months. At 5pm we reached Phidim, end of the sealed road. We were offered accommodation at a basic guesthouse, and we could leave the bikes at the police station. When we saw how tidy the police compound was, we asked if it would be possible to camp there, and we were given a fantastic pavillion to sleep in! The District Chief of Police, Hom Jung Chauhan, was a fantastic host. He explained that he had served in the UN Peacekeeping Force in Croatia and the Sudan.

Next day, we set off for the final push to Taplejung - 85km along a dirt track. We ditched all the luggage and planned to go there and back in a day. But after 20km, I pulled up. The road wasn't too difficult, but we were riding on uneven bedrock and 6" boulders, and my bike was taking a hell of a beating. If I'd been out for a weekend ride on a lightweight dirt bike, it would have been a lot of fun, but my Transalp has to get me back to the UK, so I'm trying to avoid giving it any more unnecessary punishment. There was immediate agreement among the others - I think they'd been waiting to see who cracked first - so we turned round and headed back towards Kathmandu.

Around lunchtime, we noticed a roadside festival with some interesting looking food on display. Rainer and I pulled over, and were treated to a slap-up feed. The quid pro quo was that we then had to visit temple for a quick prayer session, where we were mobbed by some crazy sadhus...

Please God, no more punctures...

"I have to ask, didn't you think it was a trifle unnecessary
to see the crack in the Indian's bottom?"

I then parted company with the Germans and headed back to Kathmandu to pick up my passport from the Pakistan embassy. I'd been hoping to make it back to the city in one day, but the last 120km on the Tribhuvan Highway wound its way up to to 2,500m, and by nightfall I was still 60km short of Kathmandu, so I stopped at the Everest Guest House in Daman.

The Avril Lavigne room at the Everest Guest House

I'd expected to see some spectacular views on the way to Taplejung, but so far I'd only seen the brown mountains, and I was really hoping to see some white ones. When I woke up the next day in Daman, I was finally rewarded...

Room with a view

Next day, I ploughed through the traffic into Kathmandu, picked up my passport with no dramas, and headed for Pokhara along the Prithvi highway. It was a really pleasant ride along the bank of the Trisuli River. Just before Bandipur, all the traffic came to a halt. "Traffic jam", someone explained with a big smile on their face, which seemed surprising given the relatively small number of vehicles on the road. Now my normal reaction to a traffic jam is to use Bikers' Privilege to ride around all the cars, buses and trucks, but in Nepal everyone applies that principle, so both sides of the road were blocked with vehicles heading in my direction. I slowly picked my way through, and at some points the locals helped with a bit of manhandling of the bike to get through some narrow gaps. After about two kilometres, I reached the epicentre of the traffic jam - but there was no cause to be found. All that happened was the vehicles were pointing in the other direction. Apparently what had started as a stand-off between a couple of trucks resulted in total gridlock, which was going to require a lot of coordinated reversing.

"Traffic jam, Sir!"

Having made my way past the traffic jam, the road was quiet for a while as expected, but I started to get an odd feeling that the road was too quiet... About 20km from Pokhara, I came to a police roadblock. The next district was having a bye-election, and the ensure security, the road would be closed until the election ended at 5pm. Apparently everyone else knew this except me... but at least it was 4:30. By 5pm, about a hundred motorbikes were lined up behind me - only problem was that the police would not open the road until they received a call from the top brass. Next thing, I was in the middle of a full scale protest, with lots of shouting, hornblowing, engine revving and edging towards the roadblock (which I was quite happy about, since it meant I was no longer on the frontline). The police were very goodnatured about the whole thing, kept smiling and showed a lot of restraint for guys armed with 4ft batons and the odd machine gun (although it's quite hard to take a protestor on a 150cc chicken-chaser too seriously). At 8pm, the police obviously got their phone call and reopened the road, although the crowd were happy to claim a jubilant victory for people power...



In Pokhara, I was happy to chill out for a while, and it wasn't long before I spotted a familiar sight - Guido's red and black KLR650. Marian was there too, and she had some very bad news - on the way from the Chitwan National Park, Thomas had hit a pedestrian, who had ended up in hospital with a head injury and a broken foot. Given the state of his bike, which was ridable but considerably bent, he must have hit the pedestrian quite hard (one of his panniers was ripped completely off). Thomas was invited to sleep at a police station again, although this time not voluntarily. Fortunately, the man appeared to be OK, and after some negotiation with his son, Thomas paid the hospital bill (about 600 euros), and was allowed to leave. Obviously, not a pleasant experience for anyone, although the Nepalis have terrible traffic sense and people frequently walk out into busy roads without looking. Definitely in need of a visit from the Green Cross Code Man...

I'm now faced with a bit of a dilemma. Guido just came back from a gruelling 370km ride up to Muktinath and back - the Jomsom Trek - in one day. It sounds like an incredible ride, and I'm sorely tempted. But I'm reluctant to do non-essential rides that will hammer the bike (most of the trek is off-road). I rode round the Phewa Tal lake yesterday, and nearly destroyed the bike hacking over a mountain just to get back to Pokhara (Lesson 1: get a map. Lesson 2: don't start these adventures two hours before sunset). My tyres are now down to about 15%, and I have a bad feeling that the rear shock absorber is leaking oil (OK, no need for denial - it IS leaking oil...). Rainer and Claus are considering doing the Jomson Trek, which is starting to fire up my competitive streak...